Beneath the din,
the writer finds solace from the world above.
Here thought has space to gestate, to spin new words
New words that flow free and fine as love.
This underground refuge is a sanctuary
Where the mind rests, the soul finds solitude.
In the still waters of calm, poetry is formed,
Ideas blossom where no one intrudes.
Need for silence, solitude -
Without it, words would remain as scattered seeds.
But in this fertile darkness dreams take root;
Here ink can bloom after the rains.
Every creator needs this inner cave
To give birth to bright children in the form of silence and sound.
In the subterranean solitude is born the power d
great art to move us all.
